


pedagogy

by gryffindormischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Professors, Professors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: Sometimes pursuit of one passion leads to another. Two birds, one stone, eh?Jily Professor AU





	1. August

**Author's Note:**

> SO here is chapter 1 of jily professors!! I decided I couldn’t wait anymore and @petalstofish is my favorite enabler xD This fic will have one chapter for each month of the school year woo. Lots of AU, you’ll see as you read. Hope you like!!

**** Scotland in August is fairly close to ideal, light breezes, long days with lingering twilight, stars winking into wakefulness as the rich emerald grasses sway below. And just over that last hill, hidden beyond the reach of unaware Muggles, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry towers over the little hamlet of Hogsmeade, its ancient stone walls and turrets rising like sentinels while the Giant Squid lifts a lazy tentacle to slap at the gentle waves of the Great Lake. 

Lily’d arrived over the weekend, a cozy room at Madame Rosmerta’s more than enough while she waited for the official faculty welcoming brunch on Monday morning. Then it would be back to London for a brief visit with Petunia - hopefully - and some last minute preparations for the upcoming school year.

Ideally, she’d have taken advantage of the time to explore the little village, maybe wander around the grounds and perhaps see whether Remus had exaggerated the superiority of Hogwarts over all other schools, including her alma mater, Beauxbatons. 

Which, Lily was obligated to refute, based on her ingrained allegiance. Though she’d never been one to follow those sorts of obligations. Especially when she’s been hired as part of a new push at Hogwarts to increase  _ actual  _ magical awareness of Muggle life, customs, and practices. There was a measure of acknowledgement of Muggle and Muggleborn struggles at Beauxbatons, but the general feeling among her peers had been a mix between feigned interest that came to a stop when any actual action was required and complete and unabashed apathy.

It was in such an odd, roundabout way that this professorship came to be that Lily sometimes woke up and barely believed the letter had come. And many people say this sort of thing mainly to have a cute anecdote, but Lily’s taken to tacking up the letter written in gaudy flowing script from Headmaster Dumbledore just over her nightstand as a daily reminder that she’s not gone ‘round the bend.

But her planned jaunts were halted when she woke the morning after arriving to a pounding headache and raging fever. Rosmerta knocked on the door when it hit half past three and Lily hadn’t made an appearance downstairs. When she saw her guest’s state, Rosmerta had already been halfway to flooing the school healer, but Lily’s pitiful state and pleading apparently won her over, so the bar owner disappeared to whip up a fresh pot of potato leek soup while Lily dug around in her stores for fever reducing potions.

By Saturday evening, Lily had sweated through her sheets and luckily most of the fever and Sunday was spent trying to get her wits about her and review the myriad of notes she’d made for the first faculty meeting. 

In some stroke of luck, Lily wakes Monday morning to a bright blue sky and mostly back to normal, if a little weak and absent much of an appetite.

Still, she takes her time getting dressed and prepared for her day at the castle, slipping into the loo for a leisurely dip in the brass tub. After, when her fingers are nice and pruny, Lily dries her pale skin and takes care arranging her hair into loose curls that fall around her shoulders. She sets her peachy lipstick aside, putting that off for last as she settles in, sipping tea with lemon and honey in her old gingham dressing gown while pretending she can focus on the dog eared Austen novel she’d packed for her excursion.

Despite her divided attentions, Lily feels somewhat relaxed by the time her alarm sounds and the bustle of the breakfast rush quiets downstairs. 

Taking a steadying breath, she slips on her pleated skirt, oxfords, and a cozy but still professional cable knit, creamy against the rough brown tweed of her skirt.

After double checking that she’s tucked her notes, rain coat, and readers into her satchel, Lily clips it shut and slings the worn leather strap over her shoulder, fingers brushing the initials carefully stitched just at the flap’s edge.

Rosmerta winks from behind the counter at Lily as she strides toward the side exit, grabbing her bicycle in the alley and securing her bag before throwing one leg over and pedaling out onto the high street. 

She gets a few odd looks, but it’s not uncommon when you’re a Muggleborn trying to bring television and ink pens to the wizarding world. The sun’s glorious and warm against her skin as she breaks from Hogsmeade’s outer limits, nothing but lush countryside around her as Hogwarts Castle looms ever closer on the horizon. 

Rolling hills give Lily a bit of exercise as she breathes deep and the exertion clears her head while simultaneously making her rethink the jumper choice. Not that the alternative of woolen, stuffy working-witch’s robes would have been much better.

At least this way, she’s not running the risk of getting caught up in her bicycle’s gears.

Dirt road turns to gravel and suddenly she’s at the wrought iron gates, twin winged boars towering overhead and for the first time, Lily realizes she’s arrived and has no clue how to actually enter the school grounds. 

A problem that is addressed almost as soon as she can recognize it when a trio of men saunter barely a few paces away, one of which she knows well enough. “Remus John Lupin!”

Oddly, the lanky bloke with hair that appears never to have been brushed turns first, laughter still lighting his face, spectacles glinting in the sunlight. “What’s he done now?”

That earns him a shove from Remus, who trots closer and smiles when he’s near enough. “Lily Evans - sorry I don’t know your middle name.”

“I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

The third member of their little gang snorts, tossing ebony hair that is entirely too gorgeous for a man to enjoy, and follows in Remus’ wake. “I was expecting the death threats to begin after I announced I would not be using Borage’s textbook for classes.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I like what you’re saying,” Lily chuckles, “Now can someone let me in?”

Glasses smirks and saunters closer, “For a price.”

“Dare I ask?”

“It’s simple enough. Just a simple exchange of information.”

Tall, dark, and sassy throws an arm around Glasses’ neck. “I’m going to bet it’s got something to do with that mysterious middle name.”

“I don’t just tell it to anyone. You’ve got to earn it.”

Glasses - James apparently - laughs. “Ok, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Well done with the Muggle reference.”

“What do I win?”

Remus snorts and Borage hater drops his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like ‘hot for teacher.’

“The satisfaction of not being a completely oblivious human.”

Before James can deliver on the witty retort his raised brows promise, Remus flicks his wand and the gates creak open just enough that Lily - and her bicycle - can slip through. “Thanks Remus.”

Nodding, Remus points to each of his companions in turn, “Sirius and James. They’re terrible. Avoid them as much as possible.”

Lily chuckles and they begin the meandering walk toward the castle, gravel crunching beneath their shoes. “Is there somewhere to stash my bike?”

“You’ve joined up with the right blokes,” James answers and Sirius agrees, jostling Lily’s arm, “Couldn’t find a better bunch to commit low level hijinks at Hogwarts.”

The men - though ‘boys’ might be a more accurate description - continue their easy chatter as they near the front entrance, wide, ancient doors looming large and intimidating. Lily wonders for a moment how they’ll manage to open them when her fingertips brush the edge of her wand where it’s tucked in her pocket. Stifling a grin at her own forgetfulness, Lily watches as James raises his wand and twists it in a complicated pattern, unlocking the doors and causing them to swing open wide.

Sirius and Remus enter without hesitating, their long legs carrying them into the courtyard and the castle beyond in a few easy strides. 

Unexpected as it is, a rush of warmth hits Lily, the feeling of  _ rightness  _ almost overwhelming. Like this is where she’s meant to be; home.

Beauxbatons had been amazing, the first time she really got to be herself, be magical. But it was never that cozy, welcoming place that sets you at ease and makes your pulse thrum all at once.

Here, just staring up at the spires that shoot into the cloudless Scottish sky, Lily can’t imagine anything better.

While she’s been having whatever this mini revelation is, Lily’s had a silent companion, pacing across the uppermost step, wand twirling between his long, slim fingers. A bit of self consciousness sets in, but Lily powers through. “We’re a bit early, yeah?”

James smiles, eyes soft. “Yeah, there’s time.”

Lily’s lips tick up in answer as she mounts the remaining few steps and finds herself in a little haven of sorts, a bubbling fountain taking pride of place in the cobbled square. 

With the familiarity of someone who’s spent ages learning the entire castle and all its quirks, James meanders around the fountain, fingers teasing the chilly water as he walks past, his eyes on the birds arcing over the castle. 

Following his steps just a few paces behind, Lily props her hip against the edge of the fountain, mind still catching up with just  _ this _ . She’ll probably need the last fortnight before term begins to get her head on straight again. “So is everything in Hogwarts as mad as they say?”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of James’ chest. “Remus may have oversold - he’s a hair dramatic.”

“So no Game Keeper not-so-secretly tending semi-illegal magical creatures?”

James taps his chin and hums thoughtfully, “Nah, just rumors.”

Lily grins as her steps clack on the flagstones of the entry hall. “I’m sure. You seem quite trustworthy.”

Winking, James leads the way down one of many dimly lit corridors. “The most.”

* * *

One of the most difficult things about starting a new job, at least from Lily’s point of view, is that first meeting where you’re learning an entirely new position  _ and  _ trying desperately to not forget everyone you meet. Though Remus, James, and Sirius would be hard to forget.

Luckily (at least in terms of recalling her co-worker’s names) the staff is relatively small, with each professor taking on full course loads and dozens of students, so Lily’s pool of colleagues to remember is fairly easy. 

Professor Flitwick is practically an institution at Hogwarts, and an international authority on Charms, and Lily feels like a bit of a fangirl when she greets him. Somehow, she manages to keep her cool - perhaps the most swotty reason to be nervous in the universe - and introduces herself with dry hands and a friendly smile. The rest of the faculty introduce themselves in turn, Professor Binns offering a slight nod as he moves across the room and leaves Lily shivering in his wake, until Dumbledore calls the meeting to order and everyone shuffles into their seats.

For her part, Lily finds herself drawn to the beautiful grounds surrounding the castle and claims the seat closest to the wall of slim windows, hoping to spy a sliver of sky or get a whiff of fresh  _ green _ .

She’s doing her best to peer out when someone’s elbow jostles hers chummily. “Already faffing about, Evans?”

Twisting away from the view, Lily blinks at the interrupter. “Potter. I bet your a ‘hands on’ type, eh?”

Dumbledore gains everyone’s attention, giving some rousing introductory speech as James leans close and murmurs to Lily, “Nah. Transfiguration is all about wands. But really, you should pay attention. Get off on the right foot.”

Lily glances down at his boot, currently flaking dry bits of mud onto her shoes and nudges his elbow. “How about you get off  _ my  _ foot.”

And then a throat clears. Lily glances up, guilty like she’s been caught passing notes in school, and finds Professor Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes lingering on her and James as he continues, “I trust this will be an excellent school year, lead by a staff united in purpose and unique in its talents.”

Aside from Sirius’ snicker from the back row, the closing of Dumbledore’s remarks seems to bring everyone to full focus and soon the meeting is in full swing.

Lily’s intent - at least in some measure - was to try and lie low for this first brush with her fellow teachers. Let them feel her out while she did the same with them, maybe get a grip on what the culture of Hogwarts is as a whole before she jumped in with opinions. 

But somewhere between the welcome mixer ‘games’ and discussing grading policies pre-OWLs, Lily finds her tongue and it’s still as sharp as her old (and highly misinformed) Muggle Studies professor at Beauxbatons learned about two weeks into first year.

Which isn’t to say she’s not making friends. In fact, when she haltingly explains exactly what is wrong with allowing prefects unfettered ability to dock points from other students, she seems to win an ally in Sirius. Somehow, she’s not surprised to find he has a sympathetic ear for the rule breaking students.

Altogether, when Lily muses while drifting off to sleep that night, belly full of Rosy’s hearty beef stew, it wasn’t such a terrible first day.

* * *

The following morning, Lily wakes as the sun spears through the eyelet curtains, that blissful relaxation of mornings with nothing on the docket settles over her. From the sounds echoing up through the creaky stairwell, it’s clear the beginnings of the breakfast rush are at hand. 

After lying in bed like a lump for a few moments, Lily grasps at the nightstand and seizes her book, flicking through to find her place among the pages, and manages to read through a few chapters before the loo calls her name.

In a handful of minutes, she’s completed her morning ablutions and sets out to straighten up her things and select something cozy to fend off the chilly Scottish morning air. Crisp water wakes her when she splashes it over her face, and with a thick bristled brush, she folds her hair into a neat plait and tosses a knobby scarf around her neck. 

Tromping downstairs, Lily orders a couple of Rosmerta’s fresh baked muffins and swallows down honeyed tea. With a nod toward Rosmerta as she bustles off toward the busy four-tops, Lily emerges into the grey morning, wispy clouds dragging in striated slips across the pale blue sky, barely allowing the sun’s rays to break through and warm the green hills.

The cobbled street is uneven beneath Lily’s soft leather boots as she makes her way into the fray of villagers going about their morning errands, chill wind bringing a rosy hue to her cheeks.

Peaked roofs spear into the sky like a mountain range, housing shops selling everything from musical instruments to more joke equipment than a prankster could dream.

Along the way, Lily pops in to pick up some quills and stationary from Scrivenshafts, replenishes her stock of Peppermint Imps, and finally ends her meandering circuit in front of Zonko’s Joke Shop.

Fingers brushing the aged red paint, Lily peers inside where garish green and yellow shelves feature Nose-Biting Tea Cups, Sugar Quills, and a few Wind-Up Dungbombs she’s certain will soon become a bane of her existence. 

Her curiosity (and slightly reformed pranking tendencies) draw her in, the bell ringing overhead to beckon her entry to the shopkeeper.

He’s a short, squat man, who seems relatively calm considering the barely controlled chaos that seems to reign in the store. “‘Lo, welcome to Zonko’s,” a box falls from a nearby shelf and seems to unleash some sort of miniature tornado, ruffling his lank blond hair before he flicks his wand and sets it back to rights, “Let me know if you need anything.”

The shopkeeper - Peter according to his name tag - turns to head toward a half-stocked shelf when another box topples from a higher shelf, a viscous yellow fluid immediately attaching to his purple boot and slowly crawling up the laces, leaving sparkles in its wake. 

Scowling, Peter flicks his foot to no avail and glances around, “Bloody hell - James.”

Muffled laughter sounds from just over Peter’s shoulder, immediately cut off by an expert chop into seemingly empty air to his right side. 

“Shite, Pete,” the disembodied voice begins as a tall man slowly appears from behind what Lily surmises is some sort of invisibility cloak, “Take a joke?”

“It’s not funny when you’ve got to clean it up,” Peter grumbles, “‘Sides, that comes out of my check.”

“C’mon Pete, you know I pay every time.”

“Yes, James Potter, the adult who is actually employed to  _ teach  _ children budgets to afford pranking his alleged best mate in a joke shop,” Peter says, a small smile ticking up his lips even as he swipes at the stain slowly growing up his trouser leg.

“I - Evans?”

Lily startles, half forgetting her own presence. “Potter, I’d love to say I’m surprised.”

James smirks. “I’ve never been ashamed of my adorably mischievous nature.”

That earns a snort from Peter as he goes about straightening up the main aisle. Though James’ mini pranks certainly contributed to the overall mess, his exploits are far from the worst offenses to have been committed in the little shop.

“So you know James - is it a dating thing or?”

Flushing, James ruffles his hair and stammers out, “Er - no. Definitely not. Lily. She’s a new professor at Hogwarts.”

Peter’s brows rise, but he doesn’t question the complete horror of that attempt at human communication. Lily, however, is less understanding. “God, Potter. Glad to know the thought of me romantically is so terrifying.”

“No - I. We’re colleagues?”

The bell chimes the entry of another customer and Peter shuffles off to avoid further destruction, leaving James and Lily to mild discomfort and cheeky teasing, respectively. Though they do both calm after a moment, slightly uneasy silence falling between them as little quidditch miniatures whir about.

“So, you’re staying in the village?”

Lily nods. “Yeah, it didn’t make much sense to try renting something for barely a month. Rosy gave me a deal and Dumbledore’s letting me move in a week ahead of schedule so.”

Chuckling, James picks up a trick wand and fiddles with it absently. “Ah, see I used up my Dumbledore favors...probably in third year.”

“Sounds about right,” Lily agrees.

“I was a little arsehole.”

“ _ Was _ ?”

“Ha-Ha, what a witty retort.”

“And that was better?”

“Anyway, I’m much more mature now.”

Lily bites her lip. “I’m not going to touch on how terrifying that is. I guess that’s useful as a professor?”

“I understand the little terrors.”

“We’ll see come September, eh?”


	2. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO here's chapter 2. Plan is 1 chapter for every month of the school year, with posts to match each month. October will be up on/around October 15 (whatever the closest Saturday). So happy you enjoyed the first chapter, hope this one is fulfilling!!

Kings Cross is full to the brim come September 1st, bodies pressing in every direction, each person’s mind already set on their final destination.

Which is lucky, all things considered, since the students of Hogwarts and their families seem less than concerned with remaining unnoticed. Whether for good or ill, Beauxbatons had a strictly enforced set of rules about travel to and from the glistening castle staying ‘normal’ enough that Muggles wouldn’t take interest. Effective though it was, Lily always felt on edge her first day of school, knowing her parents could hardly afford mounting fines for each little infraction.

She’d worked herself into a lather first and second year before finally deciding to send her owl Circe ahead, simply bringing what looked like a decorative gilded cage with her otherwise perfectly Muggle trunk and bags.

She’d often wondered though, whether anyone really _ looked _ \- would anyone see a few kids with owls or a bloke or two wearing a gladiator’s helmet and think ‘There’s a wizard if I’ve ever seen one’? 

But that debate was for another day, and largely seemed unimportant here, since she’d just seen a broom toting, owl carrying, golf-cleat wearing wizard shuffling his brood toward the platform and not so quietly instructing them to ‘mind the Muggles.’ Britain seemed less than concerned with actually enforcing the Statute of Secrecy today, and she couldn’t blame them.

Starting off school with such a heavy pall over her head was never fun and really, going back to school after a summer of sun and relaxation was always a mix of emotions. Why add a civil infraction to it?

Lily’s mind doesn’t linger on thoughts of the past for long as she plunges her way through the trick wall and onto Platform 9 & ¾ where it appears the overdone behavior exhibited beyond the wall was indeed an attempt at tamping down on the more unusual aspects of the wizarding world. 

Toads leap to and fro over boots and from atop broad brimmed hats while wands lift trunks aloft and float them slowly onto the brilliant red train. 

Freshly scrubbed and shined, the Hogwarts Express puts Lily in mind of the sickly sweet cherries she used to mix with her drinks to feel grown up at her mum and dad’s work parties. Students from eleven to nearly eighteen shuffle onto the train, varied levels of composure spread throughout and less determined by age than a layman would guess. 

But Lily’s had her share of instructing youths to know that one’s number of years on earth somehow automatically begets the ability to remain calm and rational when excited. 

Still, weeks spent assistant teaching at the Muggle primary for summer school hadn’t prepared her for wild children armed with _ wands _. Her experience with such things was as a wild, wand wielding child herself. It was only now that she truly pitied her professors. What a terror she must have been.

More families jostle around her and Lily lets herself get swept into the stream of students boarding the train. She gets a few odd looks, the youngest terrified as if she’s a large student sent to torture them, but mostly everyone seems caught up in their own lives though they’re all converging on the same milestone event together. 

She debates where the best situated place will be to execute her vague instruction to act as faculty chaperone, eventually settling on a small compartment in the Prefect’s carriage. There weren’t instructions to do rounds, simply to be ‘available’ and perhaps offer a word or two before the Prefects ended their meeting. 

Albus had promised she’d have a counterpart to fill in the rest and perhaps help pass the time, but she’d learned sometimes Dumbledore promised above delivery, though his intentions were good. So Lily relaxes against the cozy brushed velvet cushions, cracks open her brand new mystery novel, and settles in for the long haul.

It’s just minutes ‘til eleven, the conductor calling out the final warning as students rush to claim last minute places among their peers and a few remaining trunks are shoved roughly in where barely enough room exists, when Lily really begins to think she’s not going to have a companion for the trip.

Which is fine, but odd. Unless this is some strange new professor hazing, which is also fine, though she can’t quite reckon to what end. The final sounding of the train whistle pierces the din of last minute boarders, jolting mothers and fathers alike into action, blowing kisses, shouting last minute instructions, while the most mischievous students fake an inability to hear. 

Lily peers out her open window and chuckles to herself as a fiery haired mother gestures, dramatically as she can with two twin boys wrapped about her like little ginger monkeys, and a student that’s presumably her son finally takes pity and nods in understanding. As he ducks his head back into the train, Lily does the same, only to find herself in the company of a new traveling companion. And if she takes a moment to enjoy the close, figure-hugging fit of his very Muggle t-shirt and trousers, who could honestly blame her?

It’s only a brief diversion; Lily recovers in moments and raises a brow. “Fan of last minute arrivals?”

“I make an entrance.”

“I’m sure, Potter.”

With graceful ease she finds enviable, James drops a worn leather satchel onto the seat opposite hers and falls into place at its side, feet already propped up about an arm’s length to her left. 

“Make yourself at home.”

He flushes. “Well you picked about the tiniest compartment on the train.”

“As far as I could tell, I was alone.”

“I’d never abandon you, Evans,” he replies, all the loftiness of a gallant knight, “T’would be an affront to my honor.”

Lily hums, “I suppose being on time isn’t part of the chivalric code?”

“I was on time,” James corrects, “And you’ve done your homework. Bold Gryffindor from wild moor.”

“We had houses at Beauxbatons, but it seems a bit more - competitive at Hogwarts.”

“Aye,” James agrees, “It’s all in good fun. Perhaps not so much in my early years, but things have changed. As you well know.”

“I’ve read up on the houses, I’d like to know where I’d have gone,” Lily muses, eyes following the view as it gradually shifts from busy city streets to sparsely populated countryside.

“You’ve got the hair for Gryffindor,” James says with a grin.

“That’s why you’re sorted with a hat, eh? Scalp massage to uncover your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“You jest,” James laughs, but sobers slightly, “You probably would’ve been in Gryffindor. We’d have been mates, you and I.”

“Didn’t you say you were a little arse?”

“Loveable prat, to be precise,” James corrects, flipping his pack open and retrieving a couple of chilled bottles before handing one to Lily.

“Contraband.”

“No alcohol, it’s practically mother’s milk.”

Flicking her wand, Lily frees the cork and takes a long drag. “Can’t say no to free Butterbeer.”

“Who said free? That’ll be five sickles.”

Chuckling, Lily sets her book aside and glances at James. “It’s only two at Rosy’s.”

“Delivery charge.”

“I’m beginning to think referring to yourself as a prat in the past tense is a mistake.”

“Make that ten sickles.”

* * *

Easy chatter carries them through the first leg of the trip, and then an abundance of purchases (either completed by James or at his goading) from the Trolley Lady fills another half hour before Lily decides to be at least semi-useful and take a turn about the train.

As she straightens her skirt and makes for the door, James is already slumped across his bench, arm thrown over his eyes and glasses abandoned. “I’ll stay here in case of an emergency.”

“I can rest easy knowing your vigilance.”

He snorts and lifts his elbow to peer at her. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”

“‘Ta.”

If there had been more argument about her taking a round, Lily’d be disappointed at the completely un-exciting doings of the student body. But James hadn’t done much more than smirk at her and splay himself out for an afternoon kip, so she’s free to be mostly relieved that she’s not signed up for ten months teaching hellspawn ways to do even _ more _damage with their magic. 

She does pause to greet a few nervous looking first years, thank a prefect or two, and charm a packet of crisps out of the Trolley Lady before turning back up at her and James’ compartment.

Resisting temptation to the contrary, Lily slides the door open gently, wincing at the squeal that would wake a light sleeper, and slips inside. Only to find James wide awake, glasses reclaimed, and currently about twenty pages into her book. 

He glances up, spectacles slipping down the bridge of his nose, and grins. “This detective’s a bit of an arse. I like him.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Lily says, tossing him one of her schmoozed bags of crisps and dropping into her seat.

The remainder of the trip passes quickly enough. They take turns changing with the other standing guard outside - Lily’ll begin her one woman campaign for Muggle clothes come the first day of classes - and soon the train is chugging to a stop.

Hagrid, the very real and definitely mischievous groundskeeper calls out his welcome from the platform and thunder of disembarking students sounds in the hall. In a handful of minutes, the train is largely cleared, the first sets of students already trundling off toward the castle in gloomy looking carriages either propelled by magic or dragged by some invisible beasts.

Given the way a few of the oldest children cast lingering glances, Lily’s inclined to believe the latter and guess further that it’s a herd of thestrals. Though she can hardly be called a creatures expert.

The rush of young witches and wizards fills Hogsmeade station, the youngest nervously picking their way toward the waiting boats as they bob in the dark waters. 

Lily ends up squeezing into one of the last few carriages with a few students who seem torn between being curious about her and being annoyed that they can’t gossip too harshly with a teacher in earshot.

Still, they manage to get on alright, asking her what subject she’ll be teaching, giving her tips and bits of trivia about the school, and the closer they get, daydreaming about what foods will be offered at the welcome feast.

The first sight of Hogwarts had been dazzling enough in the early morning light nearly a month ago, but lit in the bronze glow of hundreds of torches, the moon wide and bright overhead - Lily’s never felt magic more palpably.

She follows the students up through the main entrance, spying a few of the nervous first years attempting glances out from a holding chamber, before wandering toward the antechamber reserved particularly for faculty. It’s the easiest way to reach the dais where she’ll be expected to eat meals for the foreseeable future. For the first time since she arrived - re-arrived - in Scotland, nerves begin to set in and she paces a few circuits in the abandoned corridor. After some internal - and a few possibly verbal - pep talks, she slips inside and claims one of the few free seats left at the head table. Sirius sends her a salute a few places down before diving back into whatever wild tale he was regaling Professor Sprout with, while Remus continues whatever presumably intellectual discourse he’s started with the professors Lily _ thinks _ teach Astronomy and Ancient Runes. 

The four house tables are mostly full when a shadow looms just over her shoulder, luckily interrupting her downward nervous spiral about never remembering her colleagues’ names and making everyone hate her. “Can I sit here?”

Lily glances up to find her earlier travel companion grinning nervously as he waits. “Well, considering the fact that this is the only seat left, it would be cruel of me to say no.”

Remus raises his brows, making meaningful eye contact with Lily before he returns to his conversation. A bit of a flush rises on James’ cheeks but he slips into the seat next to Lily’s and seems recovered enough from whatever oddness that was within a few moments. 

“So how fantastic was it to make the little sprogs so uncomfortable on the ride up?”

“You _ would _enjoy that.”

“I enjoy molding young minds.”

“And freaking them out.”

The only answer she receives is a roguish wink (or the best wink James can manage apparently) before Dumbledore calls the hall to order and a semblance of silence descends.

* * *

The sorting ceremony had been filled with just as much pomp and circumstance as Lily was promised, complete with an enchanted hat coming to life and serenading them all with a song about friendship and the importance of avoiding division.

Overall, it’s not a terrible way to begin the school year and the literal feast that follows doesn’t hurt either. 

None of which does much in the way of settling her nerves come Monday morning when she’s making her way toward the Great Hall with wobbly knees and a hollow feeling in her stomach. 

Still, she manages to keep her face lit and bright, taking a seat just as the platters fill with every good thing you’d ever want for breakfast - steaming sausage links, crisp toast, eggs cooked any way you could imagine...suddenly her previously miniscule appetite perks up.

As she’s plating a second spoonful of eggs and eyeing the broad tureen full of oatmeal just to her left, the chair next to hers pulls out and she’s treated to a new table mate. 

“Alright?”

Toast and loaded butter knife in hand, Lily smirks. “You know sitting next to me will mean choosing between Sirius and Remus.”

He hums and crunches into a crispy strip of bacon. “It’s good to keep them guessing. Can’t be too available. I’ll get taken for granted.”

Lily hums, “You do need to manage expectations.”

“Too right.”

In the end, Remus wins the unwitting race, arriving a few minutes after James and claiming the seat on his left. “How’s the vittles?”

Lily passes over a plate of toast and smiles, “Delicious. Though my appetite is a little suppressed at the moment.”

“You’ll do fine,” Remus says, spreading a pat of butter over his toast.

Spoon hovering over the brown sugar, James chuckles and elbows Lily, “You’d better be, Remus’ reputation is on the line.”

A barking laugh sounds from the side entrance and Sirius Black joins them with a disgustingly elegant swish of his robes. “I would gift you with a witty retort, but it appears my presence is unwanted this morning.”

Remus crunches into his toast and sends Lily a conspiratorial wink. “Well if you want your pick of seating, perhaps you should be more _ prompt _. First bell is in ten minutes.”

Scooting his chair back, James pats his thigh and crooks his finger at Sirius. “Come on, have a sit.”

“That’s a good way to start rumors less than forty-eight hours into the school year.”

Sirius ruffles James’ hair and turns toward the last vacant seat at Flitwick’s side. He’s halfway there when he tosses back over his shoulder, “Alas, James, our love is doomed by untimely breakfast arrivals.”

Laughter and continued banter - including Sirius, despite his distance two seats down - carries Lily through the remainder of breakfast, and she manages to swallow down a decent meal.

When she rises to leave - her classroom is a bit of a walk from the Great Hall - James reaches over and squeezes her fingers beneath the table. “G’luck, _ Professor Evans _.”

She smiles and begins making her way toward her classroom.


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's October for you!! Hope it's enjoyable after the wait...see you in November :)

After September - a mix of hellish and lovely - she settles into a rhythm of sorts. The first week, Lily gets some know-it-all firsties intent on showing just  _ how much  _ they know about Muggles. Which is a disturbingly small amount for the pureblooded among them. Then she gets a few upper level students a bit angry that this is no longer a ‘bird course’, but they’re quickly dealt with to varying degrees of success. Some rise to the challenge, others decide to try their luck becoming repetitive nuisances in the classroom.

It’s a toss up whether this is solely out of teen angst or darker motives. Lily’s choosing to believe the former while keeping the latter in mind just in case. Sure, she’d been in Paris for most of the war, but she wasn’t unaware. A few years of peace and being on the losing side of a conflict didn’t magically make everyone _not _bigoted. Societal shifts like that could take decades to really set in, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing. Besides, Lily’s not hiding her heritage, trotting around Hogwarts in muggle trainers and skirts that - _gasp _- show her ankles. Sometimes even a bit of her calves. Horror of horrors.

But her hope, her goal in all of this, is to be that person who can  _ show  _ them. Show them Muggles are valuable and creative and that magic or no, they’re people. 

And now, with Remus’ newest project he’s roped her into, she’ll get to show just how little blood has to do with magical power. Or at least that’s what he’d pitched when begging her to take his place as the faculty sponsor of the Duelling Club.

He nabs her on the way to their first mid-semester staff meeting, shoving an iced bun in her hand with a hopeful grin.

Lily bites into the delicious golden puff with eyes narrowed. “I hate you.”

That earns her a second iced bun. “No you don’t.”

“You just  _ had  _ to bring my manifesto into this.”

“It’s not a manifesto if it’s not written down,” Remus corrects, then asks, “ _ Is  _ it written down?”

They round the corner and descend the slim, winding stairwell to the muggy dungeons. “No comment.”

It’s just shy of eight o’clock and McGonagall keeps Dumbledore on a tight schedule so everyone’s already claimed seats by the time they get to the disused classroom. James and Sirius wave them over. Well, James waves them over. Sirius flicks his brows up in recognition and resumes his study of the ceiling.

McGonagall smacks her gavel - because of course she has a gavel for meetings - and calls the room to order. Just as Dumbledore’s taking over at the podium, Remus leans in close and whispers, “Oh and by the way, James is your co-sponsor so you’ll be working together. That’s not a problem right?”

Remus pauses long enough for Lily to widen her eyes and plows ahead in a quiet murmur, “Good because I told him it was fine and if you back out now he’ll think you hate him.”

Lily steals a glance over at James, who seems to sense her gaze and pauses his mini elbow war with Sirius and smiles, giving her a thumbs up. There are worse partners in the world.

The meeting doesn’t last long, just basic outlining of the next few weeks, the first Hogsmeade visit (and necessary chaperoning duties), and then the official announcement of Lily’s sentence as Duelling Club co-chair.

As the room clears out, Lily sneaks into the back where light refreshments had been laid out for the faculty members who managed to actually arrive  _ before  _ the meeting had begun. She’s piling biscuits, tarts, and whatever else looks delicious on a little cloth serviette when Remus, Sirius, and James all descend at seemingly the same time. 

James ruffles his hair and speaks first. “Alright, Evans?”

Sirius murmurs something she can’t quite make out that earns him a scowl from James and a suppressed snort from Remus. “I really hope this isn’t the beginning of a ‘prank Lily’ session. Because if it is, then I’ll have to spend all that  _ time  _ teaching you a lesson. And I already have at least half a class worth of immature little prats who think they can match me.”

“Big words, Evans,” Sirius says, biting into a little finger sandwich.

“Don’t start with me, Black. I’ve had enough of your little band of  _ tricksters _ for the evening.”

James throws a friendly arm around her shoulders and they wander out of the emptying classroom while McGonagall seems to look at them with something like endearment from behind her impeccably polished glasses. Which is a bit unnerving since Lily feels as if her cheeks have actually burst into flames at James’ touch.

“Actually, we prefer  _ marauders _ , if you don’t mind,” James corrects as the foursome ascend the stairs leading back to the main floor.

“Well whatever you call yourselves, you’re a bunch of little manipulative sneaky arseholes,” Lily grumbles, aiming a glare at Remus, “Who use iced buns in  _ terrible  _ ways.”

Sirius high-fives Remus, “That was my idea. Softening you up. Thought ol’ Remus here might be too  _ principled  _ in his old age.”

Chuckling, James lets his arm drop, leaving Lily a bit cold. Which is definitely the only reason she shivers when his knuckles brush hers. He drags a finger along the back of her hand to get her attention and  _ damn  _ if he hasn’t. Lily’s breath catches at his nearness, his hazel eyes sparking with mischief. “Don’t let Remus fool you. He’s the best mischief maker of us - though Sirius will never admit it. In fact, Moony’s the best  _ because  _ no one suspects him. It’s a devious sort of skill he’s got there. All mild mannered and then he  _ pounces _ .”

Lily laughs, waving as Remus and Sirius split off to hit up the House Elves for a snack. “Moony?”

James ruffles his hair again, “I uh - it’s a nickname? Just an old joke - ”

“Moon - oh my god,” Lily cuts in, “Your super top secret nickname for your secret werewolf friend is  _ Moony _ ? Why not just call him Werewolf McWerewolfson?”

“Too long,” James supplies, “So he told you? He doesn’t like offering that up to just anyone.”

“No one’s ever said I was ‘just anyone,’” Lily shoots back. “Also, you don’t need to walk me back to my room.”

“Mum says walking’s good for my circulation.”

Smiling, Lily threads her arm through his. “What else does Mum say?”

“That I’m a handsome, smart, loveable boy.”

“I didn’t take your Mum for a liar.”

“Get out of here, Evans.”

As they come to a halt, Lily kicks at the door jamb and grins. “This are my rooms  _ so _ .”

“Ah,  _ I  _ should get out,” James concludes, his hand brushing along Lily’s arm as they separate, kicking up goosebumps in its wake. “Didn’t know you had it in you to be so rude.”

“Didn’t know  _ you  _ were such a baby,” Lily teases, hand atop the cool wrought iron handle. She winks. “Goodnight, Potter.”

“G’night Evans."

As the momentum of the semester kicks in, preparations for the first Hogsmeade - which mainly involves things like fretting over who goes with who and whether dungbombs will be confiscated - and the general push and pull of classes keep Lily busy. She’s not had to hand out a detention yet, favoring disapproving speeches and disappointed looks to get her point across. But there’s definitely been an uptick in note passing, whispers, and the like.

So when James slots in next to her at lunch and opens with, “Ready for our big debut?” Lily’s a bit confused.

“For our - ?”

“Don’t be coy with me, co-chair,” James teases, grabbing a few half sandwiches on his plate and giving Lily a light elbow, “Tonight’s duelling club.”

“Oh - shite,” Lily nearly drops her spoon into her chowder but it just droops a bit instead. “Any shot we postpone?”

“There’s already over a dozen kids coming,” James says, “I s’pose I could find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I just, time got away from me, I guess.”

Remus leans in, swallowing down the crisp he’d just bit. “No good on alternates, everyone else is committed,” Remus says, “Except Sirius.” 

“Aye, I just don’t care,” Sirius puts in.

James rolls his eyes. “Lily, ignore him. He thinks pretending not to care makes him seem badarse. Sirius Black is a softie who tutors first years in his spare time.”

“Bald-faced lie, I carouse on the regular and drink all sorts of cheap liquor in the dungeons to pickle my liver.”

“He and a couple of the wilder house elves sip wine and discuss literature,” James murmurs, then louder, concedes to Sirius, “You’re a right scoundrel, I’m sorry to have questioned you.”

Lily stifles a chuckle and rises, “I should be off to class. I’ll see you at half past, Potter. We can practice a bit.”

Luckily, with a full class schedule and more than a few students worrying about upcoming midterm exams, Lily hasn’t much time to fret over skipped duelling practices before she moved back to England or her knowledge that James is an experienced combatant. Or at least it seemed lucky, before it all came all at once in a wide breeching wave at quarter past eight as she wandered toward the Great Hall.

She’d skipped dinner, charming a few kindly house elves into slipping her some cold chicken and bread, and hid away in her rooms to needlessly edit her lesson plans for the upcoming week.

Now, she can’t avoid it any longer, and finds herself slipping into the Great Hall where James has already overseen clearing the tables to the sides, leaving the aisle widened up the center. Plenty of room to follow standard duelling rules in pairs.

Ideally, she’d prefer to do this type of exercise in her sweats, but being a professor at an official school event means she’s held to a slightly higher standard of dress. Never mind that duelling  _ well  _ requires athleticism like any sport. Including Quidditch; a stance she’d drunkenly argued many a time.

She’s just reached the dais when James appears from the little antechamber in a deep, wine red jumper with a nerdy little collared shirt peeking out the neck and a pair of denim trousers that Lily really didn’t need to see. It’s disgusting how adorable she finds him, and what’s worse, she finds it  _ painfully _ enticing.

It’s slightly mollifying that when Lily glances up, it seems James has been similarly occupied. Though her interest in his attire is more understandable, given he tends to wear standard wizarding robes while she’s worn Muggle clothing almost exclusively since her arrival in Scotland. Yes, it’s mollifying and more than a little gratifying. 

Lily waits patiently as James slowly gathers himself, blinking owlishly behind his smudgy spectacles. He does get there, rolling his shoulders back and ruffling his hair as he lets their eyes connect. “Thought you might not show.”

“An affront to my character, Mr Potter,” Lily says loftily.

James sniffs. “It’s  _ Professor  _ Potter, I’ll have you know.”

“Well, Professor Potter, shall we practice a bit?”

“Are you suggesting a  _ fixed  _ duel?”

Rolling her eyes, Lily saunters closer and pushes up on the edge of the Hufflepuff table. “ _ No _ . I just think we’d best set some ground rules before a bunch of impressionable students with minimal control over their magic are in here, ready to learn exactly what we  _ don’t  _ want to teach them.”

“I think you grossly overestimate their level of attention after hours,” James says, propping his hip against the table, wand held loosely in his hand. “Sounds to  _ me  _ like someone’s afraid of losing.”

“You know what, James? Let’s not discuss.” Lily grins dangerously and jabs his middle with the end of her wand. 

“I changed my mind. You look like a chimera.”

Laughter sounds from the Entrance Hall and Lily winks. “Too late.”

“Write my mother, tell her I died well.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily pushes away from the table and takes her place at the head of the aisle, James falling in beside her. 

There’s a mix of students, a few seventh years but the majority are younger students still unblemished by the terror of OWLs and  _ very  _ eager for the opportunity to use their wands outside class. This’ll be the closest they can get to uncontrolled use of magic for a while.

Still, their first club meeting will strictly enforce the whole  _ expelliarmus  _ only rule. 

Though not in her demonstration duel. James has a storm coming.

He welcomes the students with all his expected lilt and panache, a lot of impressive words and drama about the responsibility of aggressive magic. Somehow, Lily muses, he makes a pre-duel lecture on safety and rules seem exciting. No wonder the kids love him.Plus he’s got that little roll in his speech pattern that makes Lily’s toes curl. Not that she thinks the students go that far in their devotion. 

Except that little clotch of seventh years that have been ogling his bum for the last minute. On one hand, she can’t really blame them but on the other he’s their teacher and this could get into all kinds of out of hand.

Lily cuts in like they planned this, reviewing the ground rules for a civilized duel, before James sweeps his arms wide. “And now, how about a demonstration?”

A hush, impressive and somewhat suspect, falls over the room as the students claim places on the benches and perched atop the tables.

While Lily rolls her shoulders, James folds his sleeves back with a few dramatic flicks of his wrists and then eyes their waiting audience. “Keep back, we don’t want anyone getting hit with a stray spell.”

Excited chatter crops up and Lily bites back a smirk while James seems to preen a bit. Shame it’s a restricted ‘official’ duel because she’d  _ love  _ a good old fashioned scrappy shot at him when he’s peacocking.

“We’ll start back to back, right Professor Evans?”

He’s smirking. God she wants to win. And then maybe smack him. Or maybe snog him. It’s very difficult.

Regardless, she’s not about to let him best her, especially when she’s got her whole muggleborn crusade going on. With a deep breath, Lily nods. “Right-o Professor Potter.”

They count off - James shows off his mastery of languages by using a different one for each number. Something vaguely Slavic, then something Norse, Spanish, French - Lily zones out for a few because  _ damn  _ has the number seven ever sounded so sensual? And then finally they’re at one, James goes with English for this one, and Lily’s twisting and firing off a stunner wordlessly. 

He deflects easily, like he’s swatting away a fly, and Lily’s heart pounds.

With a short step forward like he’s a fencer, James twists a tight stinging hex that finds its mark on her bicep. 

Lily’s eyes flash dangerously and James’ jaw flexes as they circle each other, tension running rampant. 

In quick succession, Lily sends a stunner and a little fiery something she worked up in her spare time, singeing James’ sleeve.

He gives her a slow clap for landing a blow, tipping his head in a bow. “Brava, Evans,” then to their rapt audience, “It’s always acceptable - and quite polite - to give your opponent credit where due.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily stops their circuits and takes a step closer. James mirrors her movement and fires off another spell, which knocks her off her feet, though she keeps her wand in hand.

James offers her a hand up and Lily accepts the opportunity to land a stinging hex to his gut. James stumbles back, “Oi! Not very chivalrous.”

“You’re the Gryffindor,” Lily chuckles, “And you were the one who didn’t specify whether we were using Antiochian or Burgundian rules.”

With an offended sniff, James resumes his post across their imaginary circle and waits. “Gryffindor traits are ones we should all aspire to have,” that earns him some cheers and encouraging thuds on the tables, and more than a few groans and offended yelps. “Plus I don’t think either school favors stabbing your opponent in the back when they’re helping you.”

Lily’s brow quirks. “Well, first, it was your ribs, and second, it was hardly a stab.”

And then after that, in a flurry of colors, James and Lily enter a dance that’s almost choreographed in it’s intricacy.

It’s a little infuriating, how graceful and balletic James is in his movements. Quick and devastating in their accuracy so Lily’s often barely able to deflect let alone deliver her own attacks.

But she does. Manage it that is. A hex slices the ends of her braid, a little shower of red fringe falling to the ground in a little cloud. She answers with a thrust of her own and a slice lands across James’ cheek.

His eyes sharpen as they move, Lily’s movements increasing in aggression as they somehow work their way closer. This has, at some point, become less of a duelling match with standard rules and more of a combat demonstration.

Which is why they somehow end up working in hand to hand combat, wands forgotten in the closeness. 

But when Lily brings up her elbow to jab at James’ chin, he parries the blow easily, landing a jab to her side. He grunts and Lily grins. “Now, Professor Potter and I have departed from the normal rules of duelling,” she tries for a knee to his gut but only lands a glancing hit, “And moved on to combat techniques.”

James does some complicated twist with his arm, wrapping it through LIly’s so her back is brought against his front. Their chests rise and fall in near unison and James’ breath brushes her ear when he continues her impromptu lecture, “Ideally, most of you will never have need for combat technique, but more than a few will end up joining the DMLE or even the Aurors.”

Huffing, Lily swipes her foot back, linking it around James’ ankle and bringing them collapsing to the floor. Lily on top, just how she likes it. Trying to ignore the dangerous look in James’ eyes, though she can’t seem to tear her gaze away, Lily adds, “And often, dark wizards and the like forget or never know the advantage of Muggle fighting techniques.”

James’ foot comes up to Lily’s hip and sends her vaulting backward, her tailbone smarting as he rolls to his feet and she does the same. He brushes off his trousers and leaves his hands on his hips, fully in teacher mode. “In reality, it’s not Muggle or magic - they’re  _ human  _ fighting techniques. The weaknesses we exploit in a duel are aimed specifically at the human bits of us. Hand to hand combat does the same, and the training can be just as intense. Anyway - ”

He turns, a spell at his fingertips, but Lily’s just as prepared. The air crackles with magic, sparks flying about like catherine wheels, and sweat pools at Lily’s temples. James swipes his sleeve over his brow and swings his wand arm in wide arc Lily would critique as an unnecessary opening of weakness. 

But she’s not his teacher at the moment, so she flicks a tight, powerful,  _ expelliarmus  _ at him and watches his wand fly from his hand just before she’s knocked arse over kettle.

The students gasp and Lily pushes up on her elbows in time to see James has been struck from his feet too. She takes stock of any potential injuries and decides it seems to be mostly minor bumps and bruises from her spectacular fall. Her main comfort is James is probably similarly uncomfortable, and that she won.

Rising to her feet, Lily crosses the distance between her and James while the students seem torn about how exactly to react. So far it’s mostly quiet murmuring and a few hesitant claps.

James is still on the ground so Lily offers him a hand up. He shuffles his feet a bit against the flagstones and reaches for her. “Nice to see you’re a gracious loser.”

Lily can’t help the scoff that leaves her chest. “Excuse me?”

“Now, Evans, don’t take offense. It’s a genuine compliment,” James defends, pushing himself to his feet when Lily’s hand goes lax in her distraction. In the periphery of Lily’s awareness, she knows the students’ attention has been brought back into focus with laser like focus, but she’s too caught up in that smug little grin James is shooting at her while he dusts off his bum.

God she hates that stupid arse. The man and the actual arse. That’s right, not even that cute bum can save him now. “In what universe did you win?”

James folds his arms over his chest and saunters a bit closer. “The universe where duels go to the wizard or witch that sends their opponent sprawling and into complete disarray; which is all of them.”

Lily grits her teeth and practically growls, “I fu-,” she takes a breath, “I disarmed you first. Standard Duelling Regulations say the first witch or wizard to be disarmed is the loser.”

Then, remembering herself, she gives the students her best Professor Evans smile. “Any questions?”

They mostly seem a bit dumbstruck except for a few fifth years elbowing each other until one gangly kid with coke bottle glasses and a pockmarked face raises his hand. Overall unoptimistic about the academic relevance of the impending question, Lily blows out a breath and gestures toward him. “Yes - Mister?”

He clears his throat and answers with a little squeak that’s likely a product of puberty rather than fear, “Darnell. Are you - you two - ”

A little third year Hufflepuff to Darnell’s left rolls her eyes and murmurs, “They’re  _ definitely  _ snogging, Darnell.”

_ Oh God _ .

Before her previously unimagined worst fears can be recognized, James injects himself into the situation with a graceful combination of ease and  _ don’t mess with me, kid _ . “Yes, we were in fact restricting our duel to light offensive maneuvers rather than full combat. Generally, that type of spellwork is best left for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Darnell and his mates seem to go through all five stages at the complete and utter failure of their little plot to tease the professors and Lily enjoys their pouts a bit too much. And finds herself feeling a bit more chummy and forgiving toward James for averting that potential disaster.

All she needs is to be barely two months in and have rumors flying about a heated romance between professors. Not that she’s living under the delusion that there won’t be or aren’t already rumors about her and every professor flying around the castle. At least they haven’t come out to her face yet. 

Yes, James Potter was a delusional arse who definitely lost. But as he begins pairing the students according to age, size, and relative skill, Lily thinks he’s not all that bad.

* * *

The following Saturday dawns with an autumnal crispness to the air that leaves Lily desirous of a cozy sweater, a good book, and endless mugs of cocoa. Instead, she’s coiling an overlong scarf around her throat, buttoning the chunky buttons of her felt coat, and swiping a few slices of buttery toast from the kitchens on her way to the Entrance Hall. It’ll be a day of chaperoning overexcited third years eating entirely too many sweets and going crazy for butterbeer. As for the older students, they’ll be less eager. At least in that particular sense. The terror they present is of the hormonal variety. Who knows how many bruised egos and broken love affairs will fill the dormitories come curfew.

But the day is bright, laughter fills the air, and even the birds seem to be in a chipper mood, so Lily can’t help but be pulled along. The breeze is crisp and Lily tugs her scarf a little tighter around her neck as she crunches down the gravel walk toward Hogsmeade. 

Her first few hours pass easily with nothing more than a few stern looks to keep her charges in hand. They seem content to merely purchase the instruments of mischief that can later be used to frustrate a certain perpetually angry caretaker.

After spending a fairly sizeable percentage of her gold on books to add to the already towering stack of ‘to be read’ titles at her bedside, Lily leaves Tomes and Scrolls behind and wanders toward the main square to stop in and see her previous landlady. Hopefully she’s missed the lunch rush.

By the time Lily finds a table, most of the students have cleared out. It seems they’re not eager to waste the day indoors when there are plenty of places to get up to no good - in whatever manner the individual prefers. She may be a bad chaperone for it, but so long as the kids aren’t doing any property damage or causing injuries to themselves or others (physical or otherwise) it doesn’t seem worth the damper on everyone’s afternoon.

Still, she’s keeping half an ear out while slowly picking her way through her fish and chips. Which is the only reason she’ll own up to the way James’ sudden arrival nearly surprising her out of her chair. He drops into the seat across from her with a frothy tankard of Butterbeer and glances at the conspicuously empty place a drink would normally rest. “Not drinking?”

Lily frowns, “I am - my order’s about eighth in the queue at this juncture I’d say.”

Lounging back in his chair - much to the delight of a few straggling fifth years who value Professor Potter’s...academic expertise - James winks at Lily and drawls, “The troubles of an amateur.”

“Oh and you’re so cool, Mr. ‘It’s going to be too crowded I hate crowds’?”

“I enjoy crowds where they’re meant to be - Quidditch games, rock concerts, fairgrounds - not quaint Scottish villages with a permanent population of less than fifty.”

Lily snorts, “That’s an exaggeration, you lame, lame old man.”

That earns her a harrumph if she’s ever heard one.

“You know, if you want to earn better defining terms, just tell me your secrets,” Lily prods. 

“Ha! I am not that easy.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily rises to check on her drink, but James lays a hand on her arm. “Nah, I got yours already.” He flicks his wand and another mug appears, fresh and foamy.

“Spit in it?” Lily asks, pulling the frothy drink closer but hesitating with the rim inches from her lips.

“Now why would I do that?”

“I dunno, maybe because I beat you and you’re bitter.”

James blinks, unimpressed, “It was a draw,” Lily takes a sip and James continues, “No spit, just Veritaserum.”

With a scoff, Lily takes another sip. “Sure Potter, and it was a draw because I couldn’t destroy you in front of students. It would kill your intimidation factor.”

“Intimidation?” James asks, distressed cracks appearing in his cheeky facade. If Lily was still in a ‘be honest with yourself’ mood she might say it was endearing or maybe cute.

Leaving that bit of introspection for later, or preferably never, Lily answers, “I’ve been told you’re a bit scary.”

“I - was it a fifth year?”

Lily hides a smirk. “Yeah.”

“No. Yeah. I deserve that.”

“Why?”

James takes a long drag of his Butterbeer and sits back, arms crossed over his chest. “Nuh uh, I’m not unburdening my soul’s deepest secrets without mutual compensation.”

Matching his movements, Lily quirks one brow and drawls, “I have no secrets.”

His laugh comes as a loud almost yelp, forced and almost obnoxiously knowing. “A certain knight’s portrait located between your quarters and the kitchens says otherwise - don’t put that veritaserum to waste.”

Gaze locking on his with  _ intention _ , Lily drags her braid over one shoulder, fiddling with the end as she comes dangerously close to batting her lashes. Her voice is a low, flirtatious purr, “Well since I can say without hesitation that my favorite color is hazel because I’ve fallen in  _ love _ with your eyes, I’m fairly certain you’ve not dosed me down with truth potion.”

James harrumphs, and she’s quickly learned him doing so is simply confirmation of her upper hand. And who is she to let that go? “ _ Or _ Sirius did all the work in Advanced Potions so you could live up to your family name.”

“Rude I’m excellent and Gryffindors never cheat. Chivalry and such. Also how did you know about Advanced Potions?”

To her everlasting shame, Lily actually flushes a little and can’t quite manage to come up with a parry.

James’ tease is as minimal as can be expected - maybe the whole chivalry bit is genuine - but he can’t let it drop completely. “Checking up on me?”

Sniffing, Lily recovers and squares her shoulders. “Well sure, if you count helping Filch out to stock up on favors and finding you blew up four out of twelve cauldrons in October of your Seventh Year.”

His grin is disgustingly flirtatious and she really should smack him. Or kiss him. “Reading my files late at night to fill your lonely hours?”

“More like weeping in the bath because a total train wreck of a human is molding the next generation of magic.”

He laughs. “I’m training them to be  _ amazing _ .”

Lily fiddles with a half cold chip before popping it into her mouth and giving the subject a slight shift. “Did I hear correctly that you made a NEWT study guide for your Seventh Years?”

James looks genuinely bashful for maybe the first time and it’s highly gratifying. “Uh - just some. Er- topics of particular interest.”

Ah, Lily loves being on top.  _ Ahem _ . “My sources say it had a fully defined terms index.”

James groans and drops his head to the table. “I just want them to do well.”

Patting his forearm, Lily says reasonably. “Then let them study.”

“I just - ”

“Give some practice tests - simulate the real thing. That’s what I’m doing,” Lily suggests.

“Yeah I don’t think I can do that.”

Lily eyes him, all guilty and hesitant. It’s such fun poking and prodding her coworkers. “They’re afraid of you! What do you do?”

Chatter in the pub has long since quieted, students tiring of gossip and easy chatter and renewed enough to descend upon eager shop owners with freshly stocked shelves. So when James laughs again, it rings through the quiet and Rosmerta sends them an endeared grin from her place behind the bartop.

He relaxes further. “Yeah this is Butterbeer so I have zero alcohol in my system right now. This is not a drunken sleepover.”

Immediately, he flushes and Lily’s eyes widen, barely able to formulate a response when Sirius saunters up behind James and drops his palms on James’s shoulders. “What’s this I hear about a drunken sleepover?”

* * *

Between classes and exams and another session of the duelling club to plan and host, the next fortnight passes so swiftly Lily nearly forgets to plan her costume for Hallowe’en. Which would be fine under normal circumstances, but she’s got to have it ready at least by Thursday the 28th so she can wear it to all of her classes. It’s one of her favorite parts of teaching Muggle Studies. Not Hallowe’en specifically (though she does love the whole dramatic affair) but the more general aspect of sharing the traditions and activities of the Muggle community that maybe get taken for granted by people existing in it, but are completely new and exciting to a large portion of her students.

On the 25th, she wakes with an intense need for the loo. It’s only once she’s...taking care of business that she realizes the whole costume issue is coming to imminent levels of relevance. 

That jolts her to wakefulness the way only a forgotten and suddenly remembered responsibility does in the early morning light. Her pulse pounds and her trip to the bathroom is less relaxing than she’d have hoped when prising herself from the comfort of her toasty bed.

Puttering around her room, Lily manages to fill her time until breakfast will be mostly prepared, and wanders down to the kitchens where she’s quickly handed a plate filled with french toast dusted with powdered sugar, bacon, and fruit salad.

She’s about halfway through her stack of french toast when Sirius Black saunters in with that arrogant little lope only he can manage, and drapes himself across one of the broad benches that mirrors the long tables one floor up in the Great Hall. 

It seems this is a regular enough occurrence because he waits even less time than she did for a steaming bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and sliced strawberries strewn artfully over the top. The house elf - a sweet, wide eyed little thing - who delivers his meal seems to flush under Sirius’ perpetually flirtatious grin before fluttering away.

“You’re up early, Evans.”

“Same to you, Black,” Lily shoots back, “I didn’t think you were capable of being conscious more than ten minutes before your first class.”

He swallows another mouthful of cereal and sighs, “I am an international man of mystery.”

Lily throws one leg over the bench and lifts another forkful of french toast to her lips. “Sure. Anyway, I’m here and not enjoying my late morning because of bloody Hallowe’en.”

“Scared of the ghosts and goblins out and about?”

“There are literally always ghosts and goblins out and about,” Lily smirks, “Don’t let them hear you say that or you’ll be tormented for all eternity.”

“I was jarred awake by an overly enthusiastic messenger bird of some sort. My brother’s on assignment somewhere tropical and sent me a pineapple to rub it in.”

“I realized I don’t have a costume for Hallowe’en.”

A steaming cup of tea with two slim slices of lemon appears at Sirius’ elbow and he takes a long draw. “You know I didn’t take you for the type to worry this much.”

Crunching down on a piece of bacon, Lily shrugs. “I don’t. Except this isn’t really about the costume. Some of these kids, they’ve never really seen Muggle culture. Not for real. It’s a big responsibility.”

“Just dress like a nerd - steal James’ specs and you’re set.”

“But it needs to fit into my lesson plan - plus glasses do not a nerd make,” Lily disagrees, swiping her hands on a napkin and rising from her seat, “You should know - James is about as jock as it gets, right?”

“Oh he was the nerdiest nerd of all, you poor, misguided witch.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily rises and brings her dish to the wide wash basin where a scandalized house elf accepts it with just enough bowing and apologizing to make Lily feel supremely awful. She resists the urge to say thank you again, knowing the whole process will just repeat, and sends Sirius a salute from the portrait hole. “I’m off to shape young minds and then hit London for the afternoon.”

“Have fun, Evans. Can’t wait to see what you dream up.”

He winks at her, all mischief and teasing, and it’s probably in her best interest not to question exactly why.

* * *

Lily manages to drum up a last minute costume at a little shop in London and works it into her lesson plan. But to avoid too many questions and a lack of excitement upon entering the class, Lily dresses as usual for breakfast and the subsequent faculty meeting in anticipation of the Hallowe’en Feast over the weekend.

As they filter out and back to their normal schedules - the students had been treated to a late morning - Sirius inserted himself between James and Lily.

James elbows him. “You know, we were talking.”

“About dumb shite, I’m sure,” Sirius sighs, “Probably supremely nerdy and overall a  _ snore _ . But  _ you _ , lovely Lily, have something of mild interest to the student population and some of us too.”

They wander a bit, though it becomes clear Sirius is shepherding them toward Lily’s quarters. Which isn’t  _ that  _ suspicious on its own, but Sirius is pretty much eternally worthy of suspicion. 

“I have no idea what you must mean.”

James snorts. “See I was on your side until whatever that was, Evans.”

Shrugging, Lily extricates herself from Sirius’ arm and waves to a few passing students before they reach her door. “I don’t appreciate your tone,  _ Potter _ . And I have no secrets I plan to reveal.”

Sirius scoffs and pats James on the shoulder, who simply looks lost and more than a little disappointed as his friend ushers him away. Rolling her eyes, Lily waves and lets herself inside to put the finishing touches on her costume and finally dress. 

The shop only had bits and pieces of costumes left this close to the holiday, but Lily found enough to put together something cohesive enough.

Settling the pointed little ears atop her head, Lily draws a few dark lines over her cheeks and switches out her wooly jumper and plaid skirt for her only black dress. Perhaps a bit slinky for class, but she’s covered head to toe and it’s nothing unprofessional.

Her first class takes to it well, fifth years who don’t feel they’re too ‘adult’ to dress up. After her lecture, Lily allotted time for questions and  _ may  _ have prepped a light arts and crafts plan to whip out depending on the reaction she got. In the end, she has to almost drag a few from the classroom when the period ends, assuring them that the gluesticks  _ will  _ dry and the masks will be ready to wear soon enough. The sixth years are a bit less open, though she does get a good discussion going about the way the muggle and magical communities perceive each other. And when a couple of little arseholes get too smug about muggles, she reminds them of a particularly terrible round of guesses for the use of a toaster oven.

As the final students clear from her classroom, Lily begins the long and sticky process of cleaning up from their artistic endeavors. She’s just crawled beneath a desk to retrieve discarded construction paper when Potter’s voice sounds from the far end of the room in a drawl. “Well you are just the talk of the school, Evans.”

Startled, Lily manages to stand up  _ into _ the tabletop and send the colored pencils rolling across the room. 

James laughs. “No wands?”

With a sigh, Lily manages to crawl from beneath the desk and smooth her skirt back down over her black tights. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a little messy when you clean up.”

“That’s exactly what - ” James trails off and Lily turns around, ready to tease his poor comeback. Instead she finds him looking a bit glassy eyed like he’s been hit with a stray  _ Stupefy _ . 

When she raises her brows in question, fists braces on her hips like the no-nonsense school marm she channels from time to time when Diedra Porter decides she’s feeling particularly rebellious, James seems to grind back into gear. 

“You’re a cat.”

Perhaps not fully into gear. 

“Yeah, for class. Muggles dress up for - ”

“Halloween,” James finishes, eyes darting about bit helplessly as he ruffles his hair. 

Lily smiles. “Right - I assume you and the boys haven’t missed many chances for drama over the years.”

“We - Remus. Yeah,” James answers, absent. “Well I should - bye.”

And then, in his oddest move yet, James disappears from sight without another word.

The real disappointment is when Lily finds herself robbed of the opportunity to investigate or at the very least tease him for the odd encounter at the Hallowe’en Feast. 

_ Wanker _ . 


	4. November

November dawns bright and crisp, the season’s first snow merely a light dusting on the rolling emerald hills. Frost gathers on the window panes in Lily’s quarters as she putters about, enjoying her last free morning of the weekend. Hallowe’en had fallen on a Saturday and while she was over the moon that her little project took off so well, helping half the Hogwarts population make ‘authentic’ costumes filled most of her day. By the time the feast rolled around, there were muggle monsters, ghouls, and cinema favorites filling the benches. 

And later, when she walked back to her room in the vacant halls only to hear James’ slightly stuttered, “Nice work, Evans,” she might have felt warmed to her toes.

Now, not even James Potter’s cheeky grin and hazel eyes could drive the chill from her bones. A fresh mug of tea, woolen tights, socks, _ and _a sweater seem to be working alright so far, but her morning prep time was severely delayed by the harsh weather that seemed to crop up overnight, so breakfast was limited to some slightly crumbly shortbread cookies from Minerva.

After lingering over her tea and lazily reading a few more chapters, Lily dog-ears her book and tugs on her soft leather boots. A careful look around assures her she’s tucked the necessary items into her satchel and then she’s off, cloak in hand should the icy air run through the faculty meeting as well.

Hopefully, the collection of warm bodies will alleviate the icy fingers of winter somewhat, but Lily’s not taking chances - she’d like to leave the school year with the same number of fingers and toes she started it with.

She runs into a few dedicated students on their way to the library and offers a smile and wave before trotting down the last few corridors and sliding into the faculty lounge. Her coworkers are still milling about, all similarly bundled and nursing steaming drinks. With one notable missing face. 

Sirius wanders over and links his arm with Lily’s. “Top o’ the mornin’ Evans.”

“Hangovers make you feel like trying out new accents?” Lily chuckles.

“Excuse me, I am _ not _hungover,” Sirius gasps.

“Dunno you boys seemed to be set on having a pretty wild time,” Lily drawls as they claim two seats - avoiding anything near windows that don’t seem to do much in the way of keeping out the cold.

Remus settles on Lily’s other side and she nearly _ moans _at the increased warmth. “Actually, we were quite tame.”

“Relatively speaking.”

Sirius tilts his head, thoughtful. “What _ is _wild, if not a relative term?”

The banter continues and Lily finds her muscles relaxing somewhat, warming as her cohorts are, until she catches Remus’ expression. It’s that slightly obnoxious, knowing look he gets when he thinks he’s so much _ smarter _than you. Which wouldn’t be too terrible except it almost always precedes an intrusive pronouncement nobody really enjoys receiving.

He slants his gaze her way. “James couldn’t make it today, had to go see his mum and dad.”

Lily doesn’t let her eyes waver, nodding. “Hope all’s well.”

Remus’ brow twitches but he doesn’t press it. Sirius, however, is either a pushy little thing or completely oblivious, and decides to provide some unrequested information. “Oh James is a little Mum’s boy - he loves Dad of course but - well I always view it as the complete opposite of my relationship with mother dearest.”

He pauses, and Lily’s debating the best way to ask for more information as she feels unaccountably nosy about the whole situation, when Remus takes pity. “Sirius’ _ biological _mum - well she’s the type that leads sons to have a distinction between ‘biological’ and ‘real’ mums.”

Sirius snorts. “I really live up to my initials - ”

In the dark, Lily glances at Remus who mouths _ Orion _just as she catches the allusion without all the information and lets out a surprised laugh. “Shouldn’t a hangover dampen your cheek?”

“Oh, we have so very much to teach you.”

Though her lessons don’t commence immediately, as Dumbledore calls the meeting to order, eyes twinkling at their mischievous expressions. Lily elbows Sirius and mumbles, “Don’t get me in trouble - ”

“Afraid of a little mischief, Evans?” Remus teases out the side of his mouth.

“The best troublemakers only get caught when they _ want _to.”

Sirius grins.

* * *

By the time the meeting disperses, Lily’s sides ache with suppressed laughter and her stomach growls for sustenance. Preferably something flaky and buttery followed up by a decadent mug of hot chocolate. 

Mostly, she finds herself in need of a few stolen moments of solitude and seeks out the kitchens for a quick bite to warm her bones. The house elves comply with her request easily enough, more than happy to provide a sampler platter of their preparations for lunch. Lily puts away a healthy bit of food - dunking her grilled cheese into creamy tomato bisque and demolishing a jacket potato - before she finds she’s stuffed to brimming.

Satisfied though she is, Lily feels like she should be rolled through the castle and into her bed for a nice, long kip. Instead, she finds herself wandering the corridors and eventually out into the slowly waning sunlight.

Students are sparsely spread over the grounds, bundled up to enjoy the decreasing winter sunlight while they can. 

Her deep inhales draw the woody, fresh scent of pine into her lungs and though her full belly doesn’t allow for the deepest of breaths, Lily already feels the exercise reinvigorating her. Besides, she never sleeps better than after a nice, brisk constitutional.

Just as she breaks into a light run, hair blowing in the wind as her cloak billows behind her like some dramatic period romance set on the moors, she nearly trips over a long lanky form sprawled across her path.

Shocked as she is, Lily doesn’t rethink the appropriateness of her shouted, “Oi!”

Her would be stumbling block jolts to a sitting position and sends his companion - a gorgeous, shiny, bear of a dog - running. 

“Sorry Evans.”

“Professor.”

He grins and rights his glasses. “Sorry _ Professor _Evans.”

“You - you must have been what a cheeky nightmare,” Lily says with a roll of her eyes as his furry companion wanders back over and butts his head against her palm.

James pushes to his feet and twists to examine his likely snow-damp trousers. “Excuse me, I am _ still _a cheeky nightmare.”

As she scratches at his dog’s chin, said bear-ish animal lets out an almighty sneeze and snorts uncomfortably. “Aw, you’re a little snuffled aren’t you?”

The dog seems confused and James is biting back some sort of response so Lily leans into it because she’s a pretty cheeky nightmare too. “If your master won’t talk - I’ll just have to name you myself. _ Snuffles _.”

Now, the dog seems decidedly _ unhappy _and James is positively gleeful so Lily’s more confused than ever. “So is this your familiar?”

James ruffles the dog’s ears. “Nah. He’s a mutt that likes to follow me around sometimes.”

The dog huffs and honestly Lily thinks _ Snuffles _ rolls his eyes and this _ really _doesn’t seem like a playful stray situation. “Nice, clean dog for a wild one.”

“He’s a priss pot.”

That earns James a growl.

“With remarkable command of the English language,” Lily adds and Snuffles preens.

James glares at the ‘priss pot’ and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Where are you off to?”

Shrugging, Lily begins picking her way toward the forest again and James follows alongside her. “Just out for a walk. Maybe I’ll visit Hagrid. He’s alone too much.”

“Love a good afternoon with ol’ Rubeus.”

“Friends?”

“Served many a detention under his watchful eye,” James explains as Snuffles trails along at his hip.

“So you played hooky to make snow angels?” Lily says after a moment of silence, flakes crunching beneath her boots, the crisp white blanket already turning to sludge.

“If I play hooky, I play hooky - no _ snow angels _,” James gasps, affronted, “I drum up life-altering, unforgettable hijinks.”

“Avoiding my question, but I’ll allow it for the time being,” Lily says with a wink, elbowing him.

“So how was the meeting?”

“So clunky, that subject change - I can’t believe you expect me to believe you’re a successful prank mastermind.”

“How else would I become so endeared to the students?” James says, knitting his arm through hers. When she glances at it, and then him, with a raised brow, he shrugs and blows his breath into his free hand. “It’s _ cold _and you’re freakishly warm.”

“It’s called dressing for the weather.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He pulls the gate open and they step inside Hagrid’s garden, winter veggies Lily can’t identify without a closer look growing tall and strong in the cold air. Wind whips from the lake’s shore and Lily can’t help but drag herself closer to James. “Hope Hagrid’s got tea on.”

“Though that’s practically a guarantee for rock cakes.”

“At least they’re warm.”

“Just hold me close, Evans.”

* * *

When Lily notices student’s exchanging an increased number of house-related barbs and sporting more than a few purpling bruises, she knows they’re either on the verge of inter-house war or Quidditch season is upon them.

She’d known it must be gearing up, but schools have differing timetables - Beauxbatons started the school year almost a full month earlier than Hogwarts - and it slipped her mind to ask with the faculty meetings as jam-packed with information as they were.

A few Gryffindors are lingering in the doorway after she’s long since dismissed class and it’s suspect enough that she can’t ignore them in the hope they’ll leave.

“Alright, you three?”

Pratchett pipes up first, apparently their elected spokeswoman if the nudging and shoving are anything to go by, and smiles nervously, “We - well Professor Potter said you might have - ”

Lily quirks her brow, already bracing for whatever Professor Potter volunteered her for, when Pratchett girds herself and continues, “We want to work on stamina? For the season. Our first game is coming up and, well it’s probably too late now - ”

Stevens rolls her eyes and shoves Pratchett none too gently, apparently regretting her vote, “We want to add some muggle fitness exercises to our training regimen.”

Smiling, Lily tilts her head and invites them back inside. “Pratchett is right, it might not change much for your first game this close to the big day.”

“‘S good enough,” Stevens says with a shrug and Johnson nods his agreement, “We had another request.”

Lily pauses, hand hovering over the bookcase. “Yes?”

“Could you keep this - ah - between us?”

Johnson nods again, “We want the advantage - can’t have the other teams catching on.”

Biting back a grin, Lily pulls down a few tomes on calisthenics and other fitness related topics. “I can’t promise I’ll refuse if I’m asked - ” they look every bit the kicked puppies, “ - but I won’t volunteer the idea. Fair?”

They grin and stuff the books away into their bags, disappearing down the hall.

Given her slight contribution to the game, Lily feels a bit silly for feeling so _ excited _the morning of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match but then again, she’s always been a sucker for Quidditch. It’s one of the things that remains the same school to school, country to country. 

It might seem a bit poetic for a game that involves pelting enchanted metal balls at fellow students, but there really is a gracefulness to the whole thing. The stands are crammed with students, all eager to take part in the first game of the season, so Lily’s more than glad to see Sirius waving her over from what appears to be the faculty box.

Flitwick waves his sparking Gryffindor pennant cheerfully as she passes.

“Happy you arrived early - I was beginning to think I’d have to watch from the castle.”

Sirius smiles and passes over a bottle of Butterbeer. “His Royal Highness ordered me to come snatch up a row while he continued getting dressed.”

“How long can it take? Does he even own a brush?” Lily ignores the niggling thought in the back of her mind that says she’s considered the state of James’ hair _ entirely _too much and the idea of it requiring more brushing has never really taken center stage.

“James is a bit of a -” Sirius pauses, thoughtful, “_ Priss pot _about these things.”

Before Lily can ask for more details, said priss pot arrives in elaborate face paint, matching sweater, and scarf, all while toting what appears to be some sort of animated banner. Lily can’t help but take in the spectacle that is James Potter the Quidditch Fan and thus misses Sirius’ not-so-subtle shifting down the bench, leaving the only empty space at her side.

James doesn’t hesitate to park next to her, handing a pennant over to Sirius that he produced from god knows where. He’s grinning when he turns to Lily. “Gorgeous day for a game, eh?”

“Clear, crisp, and only a light wind,” Lily agrees, “Ideal, you could say.”

Somehow, his grin widens further as he finally grasps for the rolled up banner at his feet. 

“Why do I have the feeling that I'm about to be conscripted?” LIly asks Sirius when James leans forward.

“Join the club,” Sirius drawls, waving his little flag.

James sits back, handing Lily one end of the banner and glaring at Sirius. “You _ love _any chance to flaunt your Gryffindor-ness.”

The banter would have continued had Hooch not just taken center field and called the crowd to order. Instead, James sat up straight as an ironing board and suddenly his arm is pressed along hers.

It really _ shouldn’t _ be such a big deal, one that sets alarms blaring in her brain, turns her cheeks red and flushed. But his warm, woody scent flits over the breeze and his arm is firm and heated against hers, and neither of them pull away. _ That _ has to be odd - even to the non-Lily masses. Normal people don’t just _ sit this close _ when they’re just. Just _ colleagues _. Hell he’s going to drive her mad.

And then, as if it couldn’t get worse, he is the most adorably endearing _ fanatic _she has ever witnessed. His running commentary on the game picks up pretty early on, drowning out the student in the announcer’s box. Sirius bops him on the head with his pennant after Gryffindor scores a third time and James’ excited ranting seems to increase. “Oi! I’m going to tell Remus you’re doing it again?”

Lily grins. “What?”

“When we were in school, James here would talk _ over _ Remus’ commentary - his commentary _ from _the box.”

James smiles and winks at Lily, “That’s why Remus volunteered to be faculty supervisor - couldn’t handle the competition.”

A roar rips through the Gryffindor students - and consequently Lily’s little section of the faculty box - when the chasers pull off a perfectly executed Parkin’s Pincer against Hufflepuff and regain control of the ball. After, Stevens sinks a perfect shot and is cut off mid-victory lap by an unusually spiteful Hufflepuff beater’s attack. 

Hooch’s shrill whistle pierces the air and once Stevens has received a pitch-side nose mending, she’s taken to the air, quaffle clenched between her palms.

As she winds up, James elbow presses into Lily’s and he takes a long, deep inhale almost in exact unison with Stevens. Lily nudges him. “You’re a little mother hen, eh?”

James rubs at the back of his head and glances LIly’s way once the quaffle has flown home. “Well I _ am _ their faculty sponsor and I taught Stevens that little inhale trick because she gets so - sorry I guess have a lot of teaching related angst.”

Sirius laughs and peers around James. “Dunno which of us Mum was more surprised became a teacher.”

“I have heard James was a nightmare.”

“Oi!”

“_ You _ are the one who told me, James,” Lily teases.

Sirius throws one arm around James’ neck and ruffles his hair. “Yeah don’t get all offended muffin.”

* * *

As November winds to a close, Lily finds the weather becoming less inviting for those inclined to long outdoor walks and turns to indoor exercise. Although as she tugs her cloak tighter around her shoulders, LIly finds the chill isn’t lessened much by the thick castle walls.

Particularly, when she wanders down toward the dungeons, eventually lingering outside Sirius’ classroom. She knocks on the half open door, peering inside to find Sirius hovering over a broad cauldron with Remus lounging against the bookshelves, eyes gaunt even as they laugh together.

When his eyes find hers, Sirius’ face freezes, his hand hovering mid-stir. It’s tense for a moment, until Remus sighs. “She knows, Padfoot.”

“She - ”

Lily wanders closer, propping herself on one of the many stools gathered around each table. “Remus can be a bit clumsy this time of the month as you likely know.”

Sirius is biting back a grin when Remus picks up the thread of the story. “I _ may _ have accidentally spilled one of your brews when we were flatmates and I’m rubbish at potions - ”

“_ Excuse _ me,” Sirius sniffs, giving the potion another expert stir, “How was I never notified?”

Sighing, Remus half melts toward the floor, lying prostrate with his eyes half closed. “Co-dependent as we are, I _ do _have some secrets.”

“Well what are they?”

Lily bites her lip as Remus groans, “Are you trying to tell me you don’t keep anything to yourself - no wait I know the answer to that.”

“I am brutally - ”

“Painfully,” Remus amends.

“Honest and forthcoming,” Sirius continues, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. 

Not quite sure where the little repartee is headed and even less sure she wants to see it, Lily gently nudges the topic back, “So where do you go?”

The boys - because they may be professors but Lily is beginning to think they could be septuagenarians and still seem like cheeky teenagers plotting some prank or mischief - share a long look before Sirius answers, “He has a place he goes to uh- stay.”

“Nice, clear answer,” Lily says with a raise of her brow, “I’ll leave you both to it then.”

And really, Lily would like to say she lets the subject drop after that. Mostly she does, or at least to the casual observer. She doesn’t press for more information, doesn’t follow Remus when he goes to ‘prepare’, and doesn’t _ ask _Dumbledore to send her on an errand to James’ quarters.

Plus, when she stumbles on an adorable photo of James with that ‘stray’ dog in a photo frame that reads _ Best Friends _with little paw prints, she does not steal it or duplicate it for teasing purposes later. She simply sees it, notes that James is the most adorably goofy thing she’s ever experienced, and departs with the titles Dumbledore requested. 

Though when she hands them over in his office, lemon drop tangy against her tongue, Lily can’t help but notice Dumbledore seems a little underwhelmed with the books and even a bit disappointed when she notes that James wasn’t in his room.

* * *

She’d written it off when the boys missed dinner, assuming they spent the evening holed up - somewhere while Remus dealt with some of the preliminary symptoms of his condition - but missing breakfast as well is an entirely separate issue. In their months of acquaintance, Lily’s never seen all three miss two meals in a row.

So once she’s chatted to Flitwick and had her fill of hot cereal, Lily packs up a little basket of toast and muffins and stops by the kitchens for a fresh pot of tea before making her way to James’ office.

It’s dark, save a bit of light from the slim windows, so Lily finds one of the desks closest to the door and sets her parcels down before flicking her wand to light the room.

“Ugh, you’re a witch,” someone - presumably Sirius - groans from across the room.

“Well spotted,” Lily teases, picking her little picnic back up.

“Don’t be cheeky it hurts my head,” Sirius moans, pitiful and still invisible as yet.

Snorting, Lily clears a space on James’ desk and begins unpacking the meal while her eyes search the classroom for her hidden companion - or companions. “Someone doesn’t want their breakfast.”

James finally makes himself known with a clatter of one of the desk chairs and a low grumble. “Yes, someone really does.”

Slowly, they rise and amble over like a couple of zombies. James pours a generous cup of tea for himself and sighs happily as his hands wrap around the heated china. As he settles in looking content and relaxed, Lily pounces - so to speak. “So that dog’s a stray?”

James freezes, proverbial deer and all that, while Sirius’ grin widens like she’d not expected given his earlier grouchiness. His presumed hangover seems easily overcome by a good opportunity for ribbing James.

“It’s a - uh - ” James ruffles his hair, “Rescue.”

Stroking his jaw, Sirius pauses his delicate toast buttering to put in, “Though I do often wonder who rescued whom.”

James shoves him and takes an overlarge bite of his muffin, crumbs tumbling down his jumper. “Sorry we never sleep well on Remus’, well.”

Resisting the urge to lay a comforting hand on James’ arm, Lily mindlessly butters a bit of toast for herself. “I understand - and presume he updated you?”

Nodding, James swallows another mouthful of tea. “Sleeping like a baby when we - uh - flooed.”

While she’s far from believing the completeness of their tale, Lily can tell the most information or _ confirmation _she will receive at the moment is Sirius’ eyerolls and decides to let the matter drop for the time being. “Well, give him my love.”

Sirius’ brows rise. “Sure thing, Evans.”

James meanwhile, blushes and suddenly needs to check whether his next pop quiz is still locked away safely, so Lily takes her leave. “I’ll - I’ll see you boys later.”

James glances up with a soft smile. “Thanks, Evans.”


	5. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first update of my 12 days of AU! Hope you enjoy this chapter...

Lily’s third class of the day is somewhat less enthusiastic than expected given that the class is what she’d call “soft.” Although attendance was still mandatory, they’d already taken exams, so none of the information would really become _ vital _until the new year. In deference to what are likely overtired, taxed young brains.

She can still _ teach _ and today is all about Muggle-style holidays. Monday, she’d asked each student to interview one of the muggleborn students she’d invited to participate for extra credit and her everlasting gratitude. 

Plus, in Lily’s own experience, it would have been nice to have the opportunity to see her pureblooded peers as confused as she’d felt her first day at Beauxbatons.

Early on, it had been a little bit of a petty feeling. Now, it’s more about changing their perspective, helping them understand just how _ wide _ the world is. And maybe _ slightly _ petty.

Now, her fifth years are here and they half-assed the assignment, except for a handful including _ unsurprisingly _ Berry - perhaps the most Hufflepuff Hufflepuff to ever Hufflepuff. Smirking at the silliness of her thought _ and _ the very heavy influence of one James Potter on that thought process, Lily concludes her circuit of the classroom where productive discussion is _ allegedly _taking place and returns to her place at the chalkboard.

Lily clears her throat and a few pause long enough to glance her way, but nowhere near her expectations so she grabs volume twenty-three of the _ Encyclopaedia Britannica _ from her desk and lets it fall to the floor with a loud _ smack _.

It pains her a bit to abuse any book in such a way but ‘Energy Forces and their Effects’ through ‘History of Western Literature’ sacrifice a bit of dignity to salvage her class.

“Anyone have an answer?”

There’s a moment of hesitation and then finally little Kendall in the back sticks up his hand and looks like he might piss himself.

Lily does her best to smile encouragingly as she gestures to Kendall. “Yes?”

“Who is Rudolph?”

Jorgins snorts. “Jeopardy was _ last _week you numpty.”

Berry shoves Jorgins so hard he nearly topples to the stone floor. “Don’t be an arsewipe.”

“_ Anyway _,” Lily says, loud and clear over the rising din, “You are correct, Kendall. And I’m glad to see you’re recalling past lessons. Two points to Hufflepuff.”

Kendall grins and holiday trivia continues with slightly more excitement for the remainder of the hour.

* * *

After trivia day, Lily offers extra credit for students who volunteer to assist with preparations for Christmas at the school - without using their wands. Ornaments are carefully lifted from their wrappings and draped over bows sagging with garland and popcorn strings. Tiny cakes are baked _ without _ assistance from the house elves - who seem to fall on the spectrum between amused and gutted at the thought of _ not _ helping. And for those assisting less for credit and more for “please don’t send me to Filch” purposes, the entry hall _ does _ seem quite damp with melting snow and muggles _ do _sweep without magic and live to tell the tale.

Overall, it’s festive and does make Lily a bit homesick, especially when the students have mostly cleared out and she’s left alone in the kitchens with one final _ Jiffy Pop _package to munch by herself.

Or at least she _ assumes _until a tall, dark, and bespectacled someone saunters into the kitchens and stops dead. “Why are you here?”

“I work here.”

“Kitchens?”

LIly rolls her eyes. “I figured my current activity,” she jiggles the little pan and gets a few satisfying snaps, “Would be fairly self explanatory.”

“No - it’s winter hols,” James says, blinking at her with a slight flush rising on his cheeks.

“Family - well it’s complicated and I figured I’d just stay here with the students who’re around. Keep Dumbledore in line while I’m at it.”

James laughs. “Once he’s dipped into the mulled wine and opened his crackers it’s open season.”

Lily lifts the popcorn from the hob and wanders over to one of the scrubbed clean tables, not looking back to confirm James following in her wake. 

Nonetheless, he settles across from her at the table and waits while she carefully pulls at the bubbled out foil wrapping. “So are posh British wizards as afraid of the casual at home popcorn consumption as the posh _ muggles _?”

“Wouldn’t know - I’m not posh,” James says with a wink, tossing a piece sky high and catching it with what really _ shouldn’t _be a surprising level of expertise. She can just imagine James, Sirius, Remus - even odd little Peter - lying about in their dorm room, tossing tiny food projectiles and catching them in their teeth. “D’you know how much better these are with chocolate?”

“Not posh? I’d like a moment for rebuttal Mr. ‘I Need My _ Mail Order _Tea Leaves not the drivel of the masses.’

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to - that sneer spoke a thousand words,” Lily grabs a few popcorn for herself and crunches down, tossing a stray piece at James. Which of course, he catches. “So, what’re you doing for the holiday?”

“Heading home to mum and dad. We basically just eat for the entire week - pre holiday, Christmas _ Eve _ , and Christmas _ Day _ . Plus we’ve got leftovers of it _ all _.” His smile is soft, eyes crinkled and distant as if he’s already picturing it.

“Sounds lovely,” Lily laughs, “And very - filling.”

“They spoil me a bit too,” James adds, “Though Sirius being around helps a bit.”

“Oh I can see that. Spoiled little James surrounded by piles of gifts and stuffing his little chubby face.”

“Chubby? I was and _ am _a carefully honed athletic specimen.”

“Nothing wrong with it - bodies are for _ using _not to fit some societally promoted stereotype - “

His hand finds hers - the one that’s not flailing wildly - and he pulls it down to the table. “Evans, I was teasing. No need to talk me out of a bad self-image,” his thumb brushes the back of her hand and Lily’s _ really _trying to stay focused, “In fact I could probably use a couple of blows to my confidence.”

“Nah, you’re alright,” Lily teases, “Though I couldn’t imagine what you were like as an adolescent, taking your first little steps into the world of adulthood and romance on your shaky fawn legs.”

James blinks at her for a moment, then grabs one last handful of popcorn and rises. “If you get bored, write me, yeah? Me and the boys’ll come by or you could - ”

“Thanks, James,” Lily says as he flounders, “See you after the new year.”

He ruffles his hair and waves a little awkwardly. “See you, Evans.”

* * *

When the Hogwarts Express leaves Hogsmeade Station, Lily watches it, watches the trail of smoke disappear into the Scottish countryside. The air is chill and _ icy _ . Like nothing she ever felt at Beauxbatons, but it feels like _ Christmas _.

Hogsmeade is fully decked out with garland, sparking fairy lights that twinkle without electricity, and as Lily wanders into the Three Broomsticks, Lily notes Rosmerta’s cheeky streak has come out in full force as charmed bundles of mistletoe float about the barroom. 

The barroom which is full to brimming, just like the frothy butterbeer Lily grasps in her hand. Warmth runs through her as she takes a tentative sip and licks away the foam that lingers on her lip. 

Rosie winks at her from her place across the bar, swiping away streaks and stains while orders fly in - both literally and figuratively. Every time someone uses the loo, cheerful little bobbing Saint Nicks burst into song, clashing with the carols already being sung with lyrics Lily’s fairly certain weren’t _ traditionally _quite so bawdy.

It’s warm, comforting, to be surrounded by the holiday and lose herself in it. Though it’s mainly in the capacity of a casual viewer, Lily finds herself more in the spirit of the season by the time she’s travelled back to the castle and tramped up to her room.

The whole classroom decoration assignment they’d completed on the last day of classes had been a bit of a self service, if Lily’s honest. Sure, setting up as an average, Christmas celebrating muggle family would _ is _ a valid exercise to empathize and understand their culture. But it also gave Lily a little taste of the family holiday she’s craving more than she’d realized. Last Christmas, everything was still so fresh, she hadn’t even had time to properly mourn her parents, let alone realize how _ lonely _it was to celebrate by herself. Not celebrating at all will do that.

Petunia’d offered a half-hearted invitation back in October, ‘if you really have nowhere to go’ and ‘feel the need to come up to occupy yourself’ - which might have been a cry for help. But at some point, Lily has to draw a line and she had. If Petunia wants her around, needs the family connection or friendship of a sister she used to love. Well she’s got to come out and say it rather than putting it all on Lily. 

Which is the long, tragic backstory that led to Lily sipping eggnog - with a little something else - in oversized long johns, and a crooked fuzzy cap. When viewed from the outside, she’s sure doing so before ten in the morning _ seems _ like a bad life choice but she’s _ celebrating _. Besides it can’t be that bad if she’s half dressed like St. Nick, right?

Her musings and casual perusal of old family albums she’d brought out in a mix of nostalgia and _ glumness _ are interrupted by a few sharp raps at her window. Raps she’s fairly certain, after enough years in the wizarding world, result from the beak of a determined feathered friend.

Carefully, she makes eye contact with the horned black owl, the bird’s own yellowy orbs widening as she opens her beak in what almost looks like a smile. The owl shuffles aside, claws clacking on the windowsill, and allows Lily to open half the glass before flitting inside.

“Well hello there, aren’t you gorgeous?” Lily purrs, giving the bird a gentle scratch between the ‘horns.’

She ruffles her feathers and shrinks her head back a little, as if embarrassed by the compliment.

Once Lily accepts the missive, she wanders toward her office to find owl treats and a letter opener, her new companion bouncing from place to place with a little _ clack _ as she follows.

The treats seem to satisfy Lily’s guest who cuddles up next to Circe comfortably, eyes drifting shut one, then the other.

Then Lily slides the sharp edge of the letter opener through the thick parchment envelope addressed to: 

_ Professor Lily Evans _

_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_ Muggle Studies Classroom _

And then the address gets quite messy, blotted, and water stained so it really is quite a testament to the delivery service that her temporary roommate found the correct location. Her correspondent is still a mystery, and it would seem the only way to solve it is full perusal of the letter, which Lily slips from the envelope and begins to read.

_ Lo Evans, _

_ Hope all’s not too boring without the usual diverting company of me and the lads bouncing around the halls. Not to worry, we’ll be back soon enough to entertain the population. Sirius says we go home to spread our glorious gifts to more of the world. Mum smacked him and said he sounded like a prat. I personally need a few days without McGonagall’s ever-watchful eyes following me through the halls like she expects me to make something explode at any moment. _

_ The owl’s mine by the way - Edwina. I say it’s because I’m a traditionalist who loves to recall times past and enjoy historical daydreams. Remus says it’s because I was and still am and odder bird than good ol’ Edwina. Regardless, she’s a good little thing and if you spoil her with treats she’ll love you forever. _

_ I guess by now you’ve either tossed out this rambling thing or used your detective skills to at least narrow the possible authors to either Peter or myself. Which if you hadn’t guessed, I assume now you have, being clever as you are. _

_ Anyway, just wanted to wish you a proper Happy Christmas. D’you know I think you were made for this season, Evans? That red hair with those green eyes, it’s like talking to a poinsettia named Lily. Great stuff. _

_ Now Sirius has begun reading aloud over my shoulder and I need to turn him inside out from the belly button so I’ll say ta-ta - _

Then, things get quite messy and scribbled except a slash of his signature at the bottom, a sharp, looping _ James _.

* * *

The note makes her realize two things - first she has neglected to purchase gifts for the boys and second that she really _ is _a bit lonely. So she dresses, downs a strong cup of tea, and heads for Hogsmeade.

Once she got it in her head to pick something up, it’s easy enough to decide. Honeydukes _ beckons _ from the far end of the high street and James was such a little - _ something _ about his oh so original chocolate popcorn combination. And since it seems the boys are all together, buying one overlarge family sampler should cover it.

Fresh snow begins falling on her walk back, soft flakes landing on her lashes and tickling her nose. Halfway there, with the castle looming dark and cheery with golden light spilling through the windows, Lily pauses and lets her head tip back. Her knit cap nearly slips off into the slush, as she opens her mouth and lets the flakes melt on her tongue. _ Christmas _.

By the time she’s back in the castle, her cheeks are rosy with cold and laughter after racing Hagrid and Fang from the front gates. It’s only when she’s back in her rooms that Lily considers her impromptu run might have jostled her cargo.

Tentative, she jiggles the box and it sounds as though all’s well, so she sets about wrapping it with leftover paper from her classes and then there’s the card.

With looping letters, she writes James’ name and then a short note, 

_ So the popcorn suits your posh _ _ refined _ _ tastes. Enjoy, boys! _

_ Lily _

_ P.S. if the chocolates are a bit shaken up, know it was in pursuit of ultimate victory over a certain half giant and his four-legged friend _

After, the wait ‘til Christmas passes quickly and before Lily knows it, Boxing Day has come and gone and a new year is waiting in the wings.

McGonagall of all people invites her to join some of the faculty heading into Hogsmeade for New Years Eve celebrations and Lily accepts readily. They take the carriages down and though it’s still quite early yet, the village residents have already begun releasing fireworks into the inky night sky.

The evening has a buoyant feeling _ before _she accepts a few celebratory ‘congrats on your first semester’ rounds and then she finds herself dancing with each professor in turn, from Flitwick to McGonagall to - James?

She’s just spun out of McGonagall’s arms - possibly the best dance partner she’s ever been lead by - and directly into the arms of James Potter. 

He catches her easily enough as the music blares on around them. She feels someone give her a pointed shove and then they’re dancing, his arm on her waist, her hand in his, and the other itching to toy with his wild curls. Hells she’s had too much to drink.

Which is a lot to be thinking about while he’s grinning at her and apparently attempting to communicate.

Lily leans in close and shouts, “When did you get here?”

His hand at her waist tightens and his lips brush her ear as he answers, “The boys and I - who knew Hogsmeade got this wild?”

James swirls Lily away from him and she spins back into his chest, even closer than before and she really is in no condition to be this near to him. Apparently a bit of deprivation and an upped blood-alcohol level _ severely _diminishes Lily’s James-related thoughts filter.

And he’s _ still _grinning at her. It’s just too much. 

Which is why the beginning of the countdown to midnight is either ill-timed or a godsend. _ 10...9... _ Though when James doesn’t really release her, just loosens their dance form to a more comfortable, cozy _ snuggling _ Lily comes down firmly in the ill-timed camp. _ 8...7… _ Because if it hits midnight and he’s this close and she’s this uninhibited. _ 6...5… _

God those eyes and his warm arms and that stupid laugh. _ 4...3… _

His hands are in hers and he’s leaned close, and preemptive noisemakers area already adding to the din. _ 2...1 _


	6. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/July same difference yes? It's short but I wanted to give you what I did because I do like it a lot and these two are bbyz and I cant leave you hanging any longer.

The new year, for all its pomp and circumstance, snuck in right under Lily’s nose. A blur of life and snow and feelings. So very many of them.

As a professional, as an independent career woman, Lily was constantly dragging her attention to  _ important  _ manners. Namely the shaping of young minds in general, and ensuring they actually pass their exams in particular. 

She’s got an entire semester to do so, but the months can slip by so easily. Hell, she can hardly believe they’ve taken fall midterms let alone rang in a new year. And all that came with it.

So now, as she drags herself from the comforting warmth of her bed and out into the perilous cold of her room.

The chill wracks her bones as she readies for the day, setting out her notes and tools for the day’s lesson - light but not unimportant. Fully mindful of the haze too much Christmas pudding can create in even the most eager of minds.

Once she’s slipped on her woolen stockings, cable knit jumper, and favorite gingham skirt, all that’s left is to brave the hordes of students. And professors.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Lily presses her classroom door open and steps into the hall, her boots soft-footed in the cobbled hall.

Students fly, saunter, and amble past. The latter a bit zombie-like as they have seemingly not quite recovered from their New Year’s celebrations. Honestly, Lily can’t fault them. Can find the feeling quite relatable, if she’s honest.

But the rumble in her belly demands attention and it does no good to delay things, for extending the good or stalling the ill.

The Great Hall is filled to brimming, warm and bouncing with excitement, and Lily rides the wave through the press of students to the professor’s dais. Tureens, serving bowls, and dishes already steaming and waiting.

Along with her colleagues - an empty seat held at the far left end. Just next to - next to Professor Potter.  _ James _ .

His grin is hesitant when his hazel eyes settle on her across the distance, and Lily’s equally so. Understandable after - well after. And yet odd that things are less easy following something - 

When she climbs the steps and hovers at the empty seat, James smiles again. “Alright, Evans?”

His cheeks are rosy and LIly wants to do a great many things to that adorable, tempting face. “Alright. And you?”

“Better now.”

Lily rolls her eyes and sits. “That is disgusting.”

“I’m a charmer.”

“Sure,” Lily drawls, reaching for the toast stacked high to James’ right, “How about we dispense with the pretty words and get something in my stomach.”

James does as she asks, following with the pot of jelly and butter. “Of course. Though I can’t help but note your utterly grouchy demeanor seems at odds with a post-holiday breakfast.”

“Perhaps I got quite used to living without the daily trial of living in close quarters with certain near sighted colleagues.”

“Joke’s on you I’m farsighted.”

Sirius crunches down on a slice of bacon and snorts from James’ other side, “Bloody arsehole has bifocals - can’t see for shit.”

He laughs, James does, and his eyes are warm with it. But when his gaze fully settles on Lily, it’s a different warmth -  _ heat _ . Heat that she can’t quite deal with this early in the morning. And after perhaps a few days of internal angst.

And maybe he can see that, sense it on some level, because he winks at her and sets his focus on the meal at hand. “So Sirius, what brew are you torturing the young ones with today?”

* * *

With the spring semester, Lily’s holiday themed projects are less relevant. And it might be a bit less fun, but she thinks comparing and contrasting muggle and magical forms of government is a legitimately important course of study. She’s got enough fun stories on the times they intersect - like the wildly debated Minister of Magic encounter with the Muggle PM shortly after her ‘79 inauguration. The rumors whorl about for sure, and LIly’s got her own guesses on how exactly it went down.

Which is how she ends up closing out her first lecture with the assignment to write a fictionalized account of the interaction, that would hopefully demonstrate they’d half listened to her lecture. 

The wizarding world really does face a unique political situation that even the muggles don’t experience, despite being half of the relationship. By far, the large majority of the muggle world doesn’t know they exist, and the necessary disclosures (see Madam Prime Minister and select of her predecessors) have been kept in the low end of double digits. 

Tomorrow, they’d discuss what scenarios generally lead to those closed-door encounters which would lead into the topics that would definitely be a far cry from their Hallowe’en dress up day. 

Although her notes are written and she’s more than well versed in the subject both professionally and personally, there’s so much responsibility at doing it well. The kids know enough of the conflict between the two communities, of the divide within the magical community itself, but the next few class periods could change things, opinions, shape at least a small part of the next generation. 

So yes, she’s ready and they’re sweet, and the tensions between muggleborns and the pureblooded community are severely lessened since her time as a student. But that doesn’t mean she’s not seriously considering pouring a cup of whiskey with a bit of tea in it.

She’s rubbing at her temples and willing the blooming tension headache away when the door to her classroom creaks open. With a sigh, she turns and rolls her shoulders back and down below her jawline, “What’s troubling - Potter.”

He grins, “Evans,” he takes a few sauntering steps closer, fingertips dragging over the top of the empty desks. “In answer to your question, the fact that you’re missing dinner and I found you with your shoulders in your ears is a bit troubling.” 

Lily feels her lips lift in a smile and she follows the pull of  _ James  _ that seems to just be a part of his very existence, and becomes part of hers every time he enters a room. 

James ruffles his curls and slides forward to close the remaining distance between them, just a breath apart. His voice is quiet when he asks, “Want to talk about it?”

“Hm, let me think,” Lily murmurs, pursing her lips comically enough that they just brush his. 

“I’m here for whatever,” James answers as he nudges his nose against hers.

Slowly, Lily lets her hands slip up his arms, over his shoulders, knits her fingers into his hair and pulls his lips a bit closer. “I’m here for more of that New Years Eve ‘whatever’.”

“I can do that.”


End file.
